By My Side
by roane
Summary: It's been a year since Katie Dartmouth was taken hostage by the Sword of Islam, and she's back in Iraq to do a story on the anniversary of her own kidnapping. No way in hell is John Porter letting her go back without him.
1. Chapter 1

"Over two million people call Basra home, but for many, it's also a place of nightmares. My name is Katie Dartmouth, and I've returned here to tell you my story." The camera pulled back to show her surroundings, a small two-lane bridge high above a crevasse, bordered by plain concrete barriers.

She looked resolute and beautiful, a few strands of wavy brown hair escaping her head scarf as she stood with her microphone in front of the camera. The microphone she held carefully in her right hand, keeping her left below the camera line.

This was the third take, and she was starting to look a little worn. John Porter, who'd been dividing his attention between watching her and keeping a close eye on the surroundings, wanted her to take a break.

Officially, he was here as her PA-which was a laugh, and wouldn't hold even a drop of water if anyone bothered to check the records. She'd argued against the need for a security detail at first, a token argument with her father. When her father, the former ambassador, had called on Section 20 and requested a favor, she'd relented. Porter was grateful. There was no way in hell he would've let her come back here without him.

"It was on this bridge one year ago that Michael Blake and Salih Najim were shot and killed." She paused for a breath and her chin trembled before she could hide it. "They were my crew members and friends, and I miss them. This show is dedicated to their memory."

"Cut! Katie, love, that one was perfect," exclaimed Daniel, the producer. "Let's take five while Jamie sets up the next shot." Daniel wasn't a bad sort. He'd accepted Porter's presence as a necessary evil, and shared his protective streak towards Katie.

"Sure we don't need one more?" Katie said, massaging the base of her left wrist, where her prosthetic met her skin. It was bothering her again, Porter noted. Was it the dryer weather of Iraq, or just a subconscious recognition that she was in the place where she'd lost the hand to begin with?

"No, no, that was good. We'll use that one."

Porter stepped forward to escort her to the shade of the van. They were parked just off the bridge-they only had an hour of blocked traffic before they would have to move.

He offered her the bottle of water he was holding, and she accepted. As he tried to get her to sit, she waved him off. "John, I'm fine, stop fussing." She smiled as she said it. "Are you trying to actually be a PA? It doesn't suit you. You're much too imposing a figure to hover unobtrusively in the background somewhere."

"I have extensive training as an undercover operative," he said, returning the smile and trying to ignore the little spark in his gut. "I can blend in anywhere."

"As long as 'anywhere' means 'somewhere you might find a big bloke with military bearing'." She laughed at him. This Katie had taken some getting used to. It had been three days, and he still couldn't quite make her jibe with the Katie he had known: terrified, injured, exhausted, but unbelievably strong and brave despite it all. It was amazing what a year could do, to bring her back to who she had been before the kidnapping.

He gestured around them, at the scars from bullets that still pocked the bridge's stonework. "I think my cover is safe enough." They smiled at each other, and that was something else that was difficult to get used to.

It wasn't that he hadn't recognized her as a beautiful, sharply clever woman from the very start. In fact, when he first saw her-hooded and bound, with a dirty bandage wrapped around the stump that the Sword of Islam had left in place of her hand-his usual cool, objective distance towards a mission target had threatened to shatter. _Had_ shattered. Her vulnerability had opened something up in him that he hadn't felt in years. But he had let it go. He'd had to. Any connection he felt was based on the situation, based on her needing someone at her most vulnerable. No one would ever accuse him of being a gentleman, but that trust wasn't something he would ever take advantage of.

Now, though. The connection hadn't gone away, and she was flirting with him.

"John, I wanted to thank you, for coming with me." Katie rested her hand on his arm. "It's easier, with you here. To protect me." She wrinkled her nose in self-mockery. "I don't know what I did to earn SAS protection, but I'm grateful."

_You have a very powerful father_, he thought, but didn't say. "I'm happy to do it," he said, and that was nothing but the truth, if not the whole truth.

Her fingers curled into his forearm, and it zapped straight to his chest. This was the first time she'd touched him that wasn't a handshake, or her clutching him in fear. She leaned a little closer, and lowered her voice. "Later, if you're-"

"Katie, we're ready for you again," called Daniel, and Katie jerked her hand away as if she'd been caught doing something indecent. Of course, given Iraq's public decency laws, perhaps that wasn't unwarranted. What had she been about to say?

When Katie's boss first broached the subject of her return to Iraq, her first instinct was to say no. Even after year of coming home, she still had nightmares nearly every night. She wanted to tell her story, and the journalist side of her knew it would be a ratings bonanza, but the idea of going so close to the source of her nightmares was nearly inconceivable. Even when they offered her a security detail, she still wasn't sure. It wasn't until she learned John Porter had been assigned to handle her security that she started to feel at ease, and said yes.

It wasn't difficult to understand why. John had been a source of safety in Iraq before; hell, she'd never felt as safe anywhere as she did when he was at her side. More than once after she returned home, she'd woken from a nightmare wishing he was there to comfort her. Her therapist assured her that was normal, and called it a form of transference.

Katie, who still remembered how stunningly attractive John was when he'd visited her in the hospital, flowers in hand, sheepish smile on his face, thought it might be a little more simple and primal. Now that she'd spent several days in his company, she didn't care if it was transference or not.

In any case, it made for a great diversion. If she spent all of her time focused on trying to seduce her bodyguard, she wouldn't have any time to worry about being in Iraq. The question was how to manage a seduction in a place where premarital sex was illegal.

She spent the rest of the day's shooting considering various possibilities and discarding them. It kept her from thinking about the words she was reading from her script, telling Michael and Salih's life stories in the very place they had died because of her.

Once they'd finished, as they were packing up for the day, she stayed near the van with the others while John went to talk to Daniel about security measures for the following day, when they would be filming at the former Sword of Islam safehouse where she'd been held captive.

"Great job today, Katie," said James, her cameraman. "We've really missed you out in the field."

"Thanks, Jamie," she said, taking a swig from a bottle of water.

"You doing okay here?"

She stopped and she smiled at him. "Better than I thought I'd be."

"It's because he's here, isn't it?" James, who'd seen more tours through war zones than anyone else she knew, gave her a knowing smile at her startled look. "I know who he was. It's only normal you'd feel safer with him around. Shit, I feel safer with him around."

"Good," she said with a grin. "Because he has no future as a PA."

There were five of them all told, staying at a hotel generally deemed safe for foreigners. It was an American-owned chain, and had the bland, comforting reassurance of Western anonymity. Katie had a room to herself, of course, a startlingly large suite with a seating area. John and Daniel shared one room and Jamie and Martin, the soundman, shared another.

Katie was in the process of taking off her prosthesis (that was another thing she hadn't missed about Iraq: sand everywhere), when there was a knock at the door. "Katie love, it's me," said Daniel. "We're about ready to head to dinner, are you coming?"

The first day or two, they'd all gone out for meals together as a group, but Katie found it exhausting. Every moment she spent in public was another moment that she was vulnerable. Being in front of the camera afforded some safety, of course, but not nearly enough.

"I… can't." She fought to get her prosthesis back in place before opening the door.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, it's just… being in public here, it's harder than I expected." With her hand back in place, she opened the door. "If you don't mind, I think I'm just going to order room service and stay in tonight."

"I'll let Porter know." His and Daniel's room was right next door to hers. "I can't imagine he'll go anywhere if you stay here," he said.

"I hope I don't mess up his plans."

"I think his plans are to go wherever you go," he said.

"Tell everyone I said sorry."

"I don't think you have anything to worry about," he patted her arm and step back. "No one expects you to be the life of the party here, Katie. We're just happy you came at all."

Katie wasn't surprised by the second knock at her door a little later.

"Katie?" Of course it was John, she'd been expecting him. "Are you all right?"

She opened the door and saw an immediate look of relief on his face. "I'm fine, just a little overwhelmed."

"Do you need anything?" There was no hint of suggestion in his words, but the answer she wanted to give wasn't the one he would expect.

"Thank you. I think I'm just going to order dinner and stay in and watch telly." She smiled up at him, leaning against her door. "I don't want to ruin any plans you had."

"I'm your security detail," he chuckled. "My plans are always your plans."

"Well, you could join me if you want. I can't promise I'll be able to translate the local sitcoms for you though."

"I would feel better if you weren't alone," he admitted. "Sure you don't mind?"

She swung open the door to let him in. "I might make you hide in the bathroom when the food gets here," she joked. "Wouldn't want to shock the waiter."

"It's an American-owned hotel," he said. "I don't think much would shock anybody here."

Katie went to get the room service menu from the desk. She could feel his presence all the way from the other side of the room, as if he were standing right behind her. Now that she actually had him alone in her room, she felt a little at a loss. What if she'd misread everything, and was about to make a fool of herself?

"The food isn't bad here," she said. "Just don't order anything that sounds American. The hamburgers are terrible."

He grinned and stepped forward, taking the menu from her. "If you're really worried about what the staff thinks, just tell me what you want. I can order it from my room, and bring it over here afterwards."

_Just tell me what you want._ God, she was turning everything into a double entendre. She leaned back against the desk, resting on her good hand and trying to look relaxed. "No, like you said, they've probably seen worse. I do know what I want, though."

She given something away; she saw it in the quirk of one of his eyebrows. When he spoke next, the pitch of his voice had dropped just a little, thrillingly. "Well, I do like a woman who knows what she wants."

Her palm grew damp where it rested on the wood of the desk. "Shall we order, then? I don't know about you but I'm starving." This time she didn't bother to modulate her voice.

The air in the room was crackling between them. Katie sat down in the small sitting area, while John placed the order, and she tried not to fidget.

Porter felt like he was standing in the middle of a mine field. There was no mistaking Katie's intent. And Christ, was he tempted. He looked at her across the room, sitting on the small sofa, and decided to perch on the desk where he was, for now.

"So, are you ready for tomorrow?" There. That put him back into the role of protector.

It worked. She sat up a bit straighter, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Probably not," she admitted with a rueful smile.

"You know, you don't have to do this," he said gently. "Even your producer said they had enough b-roll shot that they didn't need the footage."

"I do though. I came here to tell my story. And that's where my story happened." She sat forward, resting her elbows on her knees, and studied her prosthetic hand. "If I can see that room again, see that there's nothing frightening in it, I think it will help." Katie looked up at him. "You don't have to go back, though, if it upsets you."

Porter laughed, shaking his head. "If I had to avoid everywhere something bad had happened, there wouldn't be many places in the world I could go. I'll be fine."

"You probably think I'm a terrible coward," she said.

"You're the bravest woman I've ever met."

It was her turn to laugh and she sat back. "Now you're just making fun of me."

"I would never." He swallowed past a forming lump in his throat. "I have never seen anyone go through what you did and… come back. You're a remarkable woman, Katie."

Her face softened, and she looked as uncertain as he felt. "I wouldn't be here if it hadn't been for you."

They both sat in silence and he didn't know what to say. The air between them no longer crackled with sexual energy, but was heavy with the weight of something much more dangerous. Porter would rather be face-to-face with a squad of heavily armed men than sitting where he was right now.

"I was just doing my job." But they were weak words, and she had to know he was lying.

After a few awkward moments, Katie cleared her throat and picked up the TV remote. "Well. I promised you local sitcoms, I suppose I'd better find some."


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, they loaded up the Jeep bright and early and headed out of Basra to the former Sword of Islam safe house.

Porter wondered if there would be any awkwardness between Katie and him, but she acted as if nothing happened. And actually, nothing had happened. They had eaten dinner together and after dinner he stayed for about an hour, then went back to his room. They didn't talk about what might have happened; Porter half wondered if he'd imagined the tension he'd felt between them.

"The major we talked to at the American base assures us the place is abandoned," said Daniel looking over his maps.

"We're going to be careful just the same," Porter said. He would've felt more comfortable if they were all in body armor and he were carrying a rifle, but the idea was to be more inconspicuous than that.

Katie turned around from the passenger seat to look at him. "How heavily armed are you?"

He flashed a quick grin. "Not as heavy as I'd like to be."

Daniel chuckled. "I imagine Sergeant Porter would be happier if we were going back in a tank."

"Not at all," Porter said. "We'd never fit all your equipment into a tank."

For all that he was willing to joke, he'd woken with a deep sense of unease about where they were going. He couldn't tell yet if he was worried about an attack, or worried about Katie's reaction to being there again. Either way, he had a very bad feeling about this entire trip.

He'd never hoped so badly to be wrong in his life.

Most of the two-hour drive was uneventful. They passed through a few checkpoints run by various factions, but were waved through each time. As they got closer to their target, Porter noticed Katie getting a little more restless. "Hey, you all right?"

She gave him a distracted smile. "Just a little nervous."

Jamie patted her on the shoulder. "You're not going to be alone. We're all right here with you."

The house, when they reached it, looked abandoned and empty, slowly falling apart thanks to sand and wind.

"Stop right here," Porter said. They were about 100 metres from the house. No cover between them and the empty building; if anyone was there, they'd see him coming. He climbed out of the Jeep, and leaned in through the passenger window. "If anything happens, get the hell out of here. Just drive. If I have to fight my way out of something, it will be easier if I'm not worried about civilians." He gave Katie's hand a squeeze and stepped back, unholstering the SIG that had lain against his side.

There was no sense in him trying to be stealthy. Someone would try to shoot him or they wouldn't. He walked toward the house with the gun up and ready. Sand and gravel crunched beneath his boots. That and a faint whistle of wind where the only sounds he heard.

There was no need for him to kick the door in: it was hanging by a hinge, so he stepped through into the semi-darkness.

The hallway was clear, and the first door he kicked open revealed a large room with an iron bed and rotting mattress on it. His head filled with the sound of long gone voices.

_"Tell me."_

_"I'm sorry sir, I cannot answer that question."_

Katie's screams reverberated in his head. He'd asked her to trust him, and she had. They were both still alive while the men who'd made her scream were dead. But he could still remember her screams.

_Focus, Porter._ It didn't take long to find the room where they been held captive. He didn't linger, and he tried not to worry about Katie's reaction to seeing the place. Within five minutes of entering the house, he had every room cleared. He went back to the front door to signal to the others that it was safe to come closer.

Katie's face was pale and stoic as she climbed out of the Jeep, although she gave Porter a smile as he went to stand by her side.

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

"No," she said dryly. "But since we came all this way…"

He laughed in spite of himself. "If it gets to be too much, just say the word."

"Is it… What is it like in there?"

"Empty. Otherwise it looks pretty much the same. More sand everywhere, of course." He watched with no small amount of admiration as she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin.

"Jamie, are we almost ready?" She turned her attention to her crew, who were reassembling the equipment.

"Are you sure you don't want to go in first, take a look around?" Porter asked.

Katie shook her head. "No, we want to try to film my first reaction on seeing the place."

Porter shook his head, admiration now mingling with equal parts awe and horror that she would put herself, her real _self_, on display that way.

"Katie, we're ready when you are." That was Daniel.

Katie took a quick look at herself in the passenger side mirror, tucked a stray strand of hair back into her headscarf and gave Porter's arm a squeeze. "All right." She walked over and took the microphone from Martin and listened as Daniel explained how he wanted to shoot her entering the building. Porter stayed in the background, falling into his usual routine of keeping an eye on Katie and on the surroundings.

When she vanished into the building, talking quietly while the camera rolled, Porter turned his attention to keeping watch. He made a sweep of the perimeter, although there wasn't a lot to see. The day was clear enough and he had good visibility for several kilometers in all directions. Nothing but grey-green scrub and sand as far as he could see. Faintly, he could hear the occasional sound of a car passing on the distant road. The only thing he saw that concerned him was one patch of brush a kilometre or two away. It looked large enough to conceal something, and he kicked himself for not having explored it sooner. It should have been part of his sweep. Now he had two choices: he could take the Jeep and go check it out, leaving Katie unprotected, or stay here and hope for the best. And there was no way he would leave her while she was in that house.

He resorted to scanning the area with binoculars, and saw nothing.

How was Katie reacting to seeing the place of her captivity again? All he could make out from inside was the faint calm murmur of words. It sounded like she was handling it better than he had.

On his third circuit of the house, he thought he saw something flash from the scrub. He pulled the binos again, but there was no need. There was the whiny rumble of a small motor starting, but he didn't bother to wait to see what kind of vehicle it was.

"_Katie!_" he bellowed. "Get out of there, now!" He banged his fist on the side of the house.

The vehicle was a small battered truck, with three black robed man in the back with AK-47s. Christ, he wished he had a rifle.

"Get to the Jeep!" He started backing around the house toward the front door, drawing the second SIG. He held his fire; the range on the AK was much better than his. He got to the front door the same time Katie and her crew did. By then the truck was in range. Why weren't they shooting?

"John, what's happening?" Katie saw the truck and went pale.

"Get in. We'll have to try to outrun them." The men were throwing the equipment in the back of the Jeep. "Jamie, have you done combat driving?" Jamie nodded. "Good. Get in. The rest of you get in the back and get down."

Porter covered them while they got in, and Jamie cranked the engine to roaring life. Porter climbed in, leaning out the passenger window to aim.

The men in the truck still hadn't opened fire, and they were close enough that he could see the driver. What were they after? The only answers he could come up with were worse than a firefight, even as outgunned as he was.

Katie must've heard his thoughts. "Why aren't they firing? Do they want us alive?"

"We're not sticking around to find out," Jamie said, flooring the accelerator.

Porter and took aim at the truck's tires as it pursued them. Damn it. He missed. The men with the AKs responded by finally opening fire.

"So much for keeping us alive," Daniel muttered from the backseat.

The next volley blew out the back window and Jamie cursed. Porter returned fire, spider-webbing the truck's windscreen. "You okay?"

Blood was running down the side of Jamie's head. "Fine. Parted my hair a bit. Head's fine."

"Well, don't get it shot off."

The backseat of the Jeep was hot and fetid with the aroma of nervous sweat, and Katie thought one of the other two might have wet their pants when the window blew out. Not that she'd judge, it was a close call for her too.

Seeing the room where she and John had both been tortured was bad, reliving the chase where he fought for her life was worse. She listened to him barking orders at Jamie, firing at their pursuers. She knew she had to be terrified, but all she could feel was a blank sense of calm. Even looking up to see blood streaming from Jamie's head was just another fact that she filed away in her mind.

"How is it gaining on us, for fuck's sake?" Jamie snarled. "That truck's a piece of shite."

"Let them get a little closer," Porter said. "I'm going to try to take out the driver."

Katie turned her head to watch, and the same clinical part of her mind that stored the fact of Jamie's injury but not the emotional impact, also filed away the sleek strong curves of John's shoulders as he leaned out of the car and aimed his gun. Just as he fired, the Jeep lurched to one side and Jamie slumped.

"Fuck," was all Porter said as he reached to steady the wheel with one hand and check Jamie's pulse with the other. "He's still alive. 'Parted his hair', my arse, more like 'creased his skull'." The Jeep weaved erratically, and their acceleration started to die. "Help me get him out of the driver's seat." Katie sat up and started to pull on Jamie's arms while he pulled Jamie's feet, and between the two of them they got him clear. In the meantime, the truck got even closer and another round of bullets pinged against the outside.

"What can I do?" Katie asked. "You can't drive and shoot. Give me one of the guns."

Porter handed her one, the grip still warm from his palm. "Don't get fancy, just aim for the front end. You might do some damage."

"I've been practising," was all she said. In truth, after the kidnapping her father had found an ex-squaddie to train her in marksmanship as soon as she was well enough to hold a gun. She braced her right arm over the back of the seat, steadying it with her left forearm. _Squeeze_, she reminded herself, and fired. The first shot pinged harmlessly off the bumper. As John settled into the driver's seat, they started to put some distance between them and the truck.

Katie fired again, and this time added to the web of cracks on the windscreen. A third time, and the driver's head flew back, then slumped over the wheel. The truck veered off the road; there was no one in the cab with him to grab the wheel. She screamed in triumph, something finally shattering loose within her, primal and powerful. They were coming to hurt her; she had hurt them instead.

She didn't know when she started to cry, or that John had pulled the Jeep off the road, until she felt a warm hand on her back and saw John standing in the open door reaching for the gun.

"Katie, Katie, give me the gun. It's all right." She let him take the gun from her numb fingers, suddenly a little embarrassed at her outburst. He was smiling at her, though. "Nice shot."


	3. Chapter 3

Jamie was more alert by the time Porter got them to a hospital, alert enough that he protested being seen by a doctor. "You got shot in the head, mate," Porter said. "You're going." It really wasn't much more than a graze, but Porter couldn't rule out a skull fracture just by looking, and Jamie was definitely in shock.

At the hospital, they all faced a cursory round of questioning, but the local police likely couldn't or wouldn't do anything about the incident. Once Jamie was admitted for observation, Porter was able to convince the others to go back to the hotel to get some rest.

He saw Katie to her door, intending to follow up with Layla to brief her on what had happened. Katie had been quiet since the shooting, but not worryingly so. He'd kept an eye on her, and she didn't seem to be in shock or have any guilt over what she done, and rightfully so.

He swept the room before letting her enter. "Will you be all right?"

Instead of answering, she asked, "Can you stay?"

Not what he was expecting to hear. "I'll just be next door if you're worried."

"You don't want to stay?" Something in her voice made him look closer. She didn't look shaken, or afraid; she looked intent.

"Katie? What is it, what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, I just want you to stay." She stepped past him, brushing against him as she closed the door to her room behind them. "I—I realized something today." Her movements were slow and deliberate as she laid a hand on his chest, looking up into his eyes.

Shit. He'd seen this before. Hell, he'd done this before. After the first time he saw combat he found a cute and willing CMT and fucked her against the side of a Land Rover. "Katie, I don't think—" His voice came out huskier than he'd intended.

"I love the way you say my name, have I ever told you that?" She ran her fingers down the placket of his shirt.

"No, no you haven't." He took her hand gently—a mistake if he was trying to keep control of himself. "But you _have_ had a rough day, and—"

"Life is too short," she said, curling her fingers around his. "I've thought about you for a year now. Both of us have dangerous jobs. Anything could happen." The way she said 'anything could happen' sounded more like a promise than a fear. "I don't want one of us to die before I have a chance to have you."

"Have—" He swallowed. Oh god, of course he'd thought about it. "This is the adrenaline talking—" His words were cut off when she yanked on his shirt and pulled him down for a kiss, short and hard.

"Bloody hell, but you're obtuse," she said, letting him go. "I've been trying to get you into my bed ever since we left London."

Porter had a long list of reasons why he needed to say no, but the biggest reason to say yes was the way her lovely pale brown eyes were lit with desire. He let her pull him down for another kiss and his hands went to her shoulders. Her mouth was so soft and sweet, and oh god did he want her. And really, if they'd both been thinking about each other for so long…

She broke the kiss and smiled up at him. "John, I need you. I need to get off." Jesus, that made his thoughts go hazy, "And if you don't want to do it, I'm just going to lie down on that bed and do it myself, and think about you the entire time." That was one of the hottest fucking things anyone had ever said to him. His cock had been twitching with interest from her kiss, and now strained against his pants. She tilted her head sweetly. "Or... you could at least stay here and kiss me, during."

That was playing dirty. Fine. He snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her tight against him, wanting her to feel the reaction she'd caused. He bent his lips to her ear and murmured, "Katie," he emphasized her name and felt her shiver, "do I really seem like the type of man to just lie there?"

She groaned, "Oh god, I hope you're not." Her cheek pressed hot against his.

"I," he choked back the words that wanted to escape and replaced them with safer ones, "don't want you to get hurt." Even as he said it, he knew she'd won. She was wriggling against his more-than-half-erect cock and it was driving him mad.

"I am not a china doll," she said, "I won't break if you fuck me."

He drew a sharp, shaky breath. "Do you always have such a dirty mouth?"

She wrapped both arms around his neck and rubbed against him like a cat. "Only when I have a partner who likes it." Her hips arched against his, and there were suddenly too many clothes between them. "And you _definitely_ like it."

Oh Christ, he was in trouble.

She had him. She wanted to crow with victory, but was too busy trying to break him of the last of his over-protective streak. "John." She cupped his jaw with her hand and moved back to look him in the eye. "I'm not wrong, am I? You want this as much as I do."

He nodded, looking a little dazed. She almost felt sorry for him.

"You're not taking advantage of me. Maybe then you would have been, but that was a long time ago." Then, moving slow, she leaned up to kiss him again, giving him plenty of time to consider.

He made a little broken sound then wrapped his arms around her waist, nearly lifting her off her feet to crush her to him. The kiss was desperate, as if something had finally broken loose in him. _Thank god._ She let him sweep her up off her feet to carry her the few steps to the bed, the gesture so over the top and yet so utterly _him_, she couldn't help but smile even as they kissed.

"What?" he said.

"You," she teased, kissing him again. "You're very manly."

He mock-growled and tossed her to the bed. "I thought that's why you liked me." He started to unbutton his shirt, and she took a deep breath.

"Oh, it is. One reason." She'd give him one thing: he wasn't a man who did things by halves. Once he decided on a course of action, he threw himself into it. As she lay there watching him, he took off his shirt, sliding it inch by inch off his shoulders. His skin was shockingly pale, pocked with scars over his shoulder, and on his side. Those must have been close calls. Her fingers itched to touch him, but he hadn't come close yet, instead bending over to untie his boots. He was taking his time, the bastard.

She pushed herself up to a sitting position, kicking off her shoes and starting to unbutton her blouse with her right hand. Her left hand, that still-hateful reminder the NHS had given her, seemed to glow balefully against the bed. This would be the first time she had— that anyone would see—

He must've seen the expression on her face, because he sat on the edge of the bed next to her and trailed his fingers down her cheek to where her blouse was open. "It's not something I haven't seen before," he said, leaning in to place a kiss under her ear. "Do whatever makes you most comfortable."

Now that he was within reach, not touching him was inconceivable. She reached up both hands to his chest, and that made her decision easy. There was no sensation in her left hand, no warmth, no pressure, like she wasn't really touching him at all. "Kiss me," she said, and while he did, she unfastened her left hand, and set it aside. For a split second she worried that he would be bothered by her touching him without it, but when she touched him again, his arms encircled her waist tightly.

She let him hold her, while they exchanged soft kisses and she tried to get used to how exposed she felt. The difference in sensation between her right fingertips in her left wrist was unsettling at first, the latter interrupted by numb places where the nerves that never quite healed. But it felt real, and after a moment's adjustment she slid her arms around to his back.

The initial burst of heat that had led her to invite him in, which had faded with her uncertainty, returned with a vengeance. She lay back and pulled him with her, curling the fingers of her right hand, biting into the tight muscles in the back of his neck with her fingertips. He braced one hand against the bed, and finished unbuttoning her blouse, pushing it open with ticklishly trailing fingertips. Katie drew a breath as his fingers traced at the bottom edge of her bra, opening her eyes to find him watching her.

His smile was devilish as his fingers followed the curve of her breast. "Are you still sure?"

In answer, she nudged his hand higher with her left arm, moving his palm over her already-stiffening nipple. She arched against his hand with a small sound, and curled one foot around the back of his legs. He followed her lead, dragging his hand in slow, agonizing circles over her breast, as he settled his hips against hers.

The weight of another body pressing down on her at first made her panic, feel trapped. She kept her eyes open while he trailed kisses down her neck, and let her fingers rest against the scar on his shoulder. In a way his scars grounded her, reminded her that this was real, that he was real, and she would always be safe when he was around. She focused on the moment, every detail, right down to the sound her bra strap made sliding against her skin as he pushed it away. The panic passed, replaced by sensation.

He mouthed at her shoulders, following the path of the clothing he pushed away. Her skin broke out into goosebumps and she couldn't stop a shiver as the cool, dry air touched her bare skin. She felt his tongue burning hot as he kissed and lapped a trail to her breasts. Although she tried to keep quiet, when the heat of his mouth surrounded her nipple, the sensation was too much, strong like pain, and she cried out.

His tongue lapped gently at first, stroking the painfully hard flesh until she squirmed beneath him. He bit, just a teasing pressure of her teeth, but it was enough to make her whimper, "Too much."

"Sorry," he murmured against her skin. His hands were strong and sure moving over the skin of her belly, smoother than she'd expected. To her he always looked as if his hands would be callused and battered by his work, but they were beautiful and she wanted to watch them touch her. When they reached the button of her slacks, he looked up at her with glowing bright eyes and a little half-smile. "All right?"

"God, please." Katie propped herself up on her elbows to watch him. His long fingers were nimble as if he were field-stripping his rifle, unbuttoning and unzipping, easing the fabric down her hips to reveal simple cotton pants—not the sexiest thing she owned, but practical for spending the day in the desert. "Yours too?" she asked, as he pulled her trousers off completely, tossing them aside.

He responded with alacrity, and made short work of both trousers and pants, leaving him naked except for his socks. She had to bite back a giggle, but couldn't hide a grin. "Your socks!"

"Thank Christ, I thought you were about to laugh at something else," he teased, pulling them off before coming back to cover her body with his. Before she could say anything, he kissed her, fingers of one hand twining in her hair as he lowered her back to the bed. His mouth was slow and searching against hers, giving lie to the urgent, hot press of his erection against her hip. With his other hand, he stroked her inner thigh, and made a quiet moan against her mouth when she spread for him. Despite that, he took his time, so much time she wanted to scream at him to touch her, but instead he trailed his fingers over the elastic of her pants, over the cotton crotch that had to be damp by now.

When he finally hooked one finger around the elastic between her legs, she couldn't suppress a keening, needy sound she would have sworn she was incapable of making. He traced her lips with a single fingertip, barely teasing the dark curls of hair and she reflexively spread her thighs wider in invitation. "Katie," there was so much barely restrained hunger in the two syllables that she felt a new surge of wetness, "please?"

"Yes," the word exploded out of her on a gasp. "Yesyes_yes_." She waved at the other side of the room in a barely coherent gesture. "In my bag, over there."

Rather than going to her bag, he went for his own. She closed her eyes and felt the racing of her heart, pulse beating in her nipples and between her legs. His hands were on her hips, tugging away her pants, then she heard the rip of foil and opened her eyes.

He was looking down at her like a man waking from a dream, his expression slightly dazed as his hands went through the automatic motion of rolling on a condom. "You're so beautiful," he murmured.

"I was thinking the same of you." And he was, sleek and gorgeously defined. "John, please." She reached up for him, arms open.

He came back to her, and this time his fingers slid deliciously between her lips, dipping inside of her and stroking her clit while he kissed and nipped at her neck and ear. She rolled her hips against his hand, head tilted back in utter bliss.

"I could make you come like this." His voice was rough-edged against her ear, but his hot breath was like silk.

She shuddered and turned her head to press her lips against his ear. "Or you could just take me now." She felt his cock give a hard twitch, and smiled.

He pulled back and braced himself over her one-handed, settling himself between her thighs. The hot, hard press of him parted her lips and stroked against her before finally oh god _finally_ slipping into her. She arched up to meet him and he slid deep. The sheer intensity of feeling opened her eyes and she found that he was wearing the same overwhelmed expression she was.

Eyes locked, they started to move together, slowly at first, as if there were something fragile between them. His lips were parted and the noisy rush of his breath mirrored hers. She smiled, then he did, and a little bubble of something like joy burst open in her heart. They moved faster, stealing kisses from each other between thrusts that built up momentum until each breath she took was a soft cry.

"Katie, I'm sorry, I'm not going to last," he gasped.

She squeezed around him, shivers of pleasure running up her spine. Her lips to his ear again: "I need to feel you come inside me."

Two more thrusts and he stiffened, muscles locking and trembling. He was silent, but his face, his face told her everything. After the first pulse he began thrusting again, riding out his orgasm. Each ripple and twitch inside of her brought her closer, but she knew it wouldn't be quite enough.

As he started to soften, but before he slipped out entirely, he arched up to slide his hand between them, fingers curling against her clit while he twitched inside her. The sheer novelty of the sensation made her moan, and when he finally softened enough to slip out, she whimpered. Not for long, though, as thumb replaced his fingers on her clit and his fingers replaced his cock. He leaned over her. "Let me watch you."

Suddenly self-conscious, she had to close her eyes. The self-consciousness didn't last, and she was rolling her hips against his hand in a manner of minutes.

"That's it," he murmured, kissing her temple. "Show me."

There was nothing in her universe but his hands and his voice, everything contracted down to one small glowing ball of light and heat in the core of her. It began to grow like a sun going supernova, slowly at first but then expanding until it threatened to consume everything.

He kissed her again, this time to stifle her cries as wave after wave of pleasure burst from the center of her being like a string of depth charges going off one after another. Slowly, his hands stilled, winding down with her as she stopped writhing, going limp beneath him. She opened her eyes and nearly closed them again immediately—his smile was too much. It was the sort of smile you reserved for something miraculous. She forced herself to meet his eyes, and felt her lips curving to smile in return. In a way, maybe it was miraculous.

He eased himself down by her side, sliding his arm beneath her to cradle her. "All right?"

She nodded, curling up against his chest, not ready for speech. His heart beat a steady, reassuring rhythm in her ear, and she let her eyes close for a moment, rousing herself only enough to say, "Will you stay?"

His chuckle reverberated through his chest. "What happened to worrying about shocking the staff?"

"Sod the staff. Stay."

"For as long as you want me to," he said, brushing a kiss on her forehead.

"Promise?" He'd say no, if he knew what she was really thinking. She was thinking about being back in London, quiet dinners and less-quiet nights in her bed, weekends spent roaming the countryside. The outdoors would stop being so frightening, if he were there.

"Promise." He leaned down and kissed her mouth, slow and warm and just a little bit possessive. His eyes met hers, and she wondered if he knew what she was thinking after all. "I'm not going anywhere."


End file.
